Sunday, June 24, 2007
Somewhere downstairs She Of The Town House is bundling up the raffle tickets for Sioe Gwn, Llechwedd’s very own annual sheepdog trial.
Casually, she enquires whether I have got any elastic bands to wrap around the bundles.
I am outraged! Who does she think she is kidding. Oh I’m not going to crack and give anything away but I know what her game is.
Every time the postman leaves his little sheaf of junk mail in the box at the end of my track he also leaves me a red elastic band (OK sometimes they are brown, but red is best). Every time I look in the box my heart flutters at the prospect. With the joy of a man who needs to get a life, I lovingly join the band of the day to the end of my growing collection. The one I have stashed in the drinks holder of the New comedy Car.
….And incidentally The New Comedy Car is beginning to show signs of quirkiness. The handbrake cable gave up the ghost and so now I have to remember a large rock in case I have to park on a slope. I know this is probably frowned upon by Brundstroms Heroes but I can even now picture the man in the garage rubbing his hands in anticipation at a large chunk of my holiday money.
But back to the bands…..
Its not obsessive. Don’t think that. Its just that their bandiness excites me, and the way the little loops curl and twist in their holder, and the feel of their rubbery niceness, lying there looking up at me every day waiting for a new fellow to join the end of the line. The red rubber coiled with such promise, growing longer week by week, nurtured by the love of postman and recipient of junk mail. Ahem.
Oh she’s a sly one! I can see the look in her eye. The way that she raises a casual well plucked brow from the counting and stacking. She has designs on my precious rubber band collection. Viewing them as some kind of frivolous utility item that can be consumed at will. Worry not my precious ones, worry not. I’m coming to save you.